Magnetic
by cp1188
Summary: Follows Lily/James post-Hogwarts as they reconcile themselves with the past and entwine their fate with that of the wizarding world at large.
1. Wish You Were Here

Clink. Together. Silence. Apart.

_"They're brilliant, don't you think?" He held up a chain of tiny silver balls._

_ "Er...that...those are—." She did not want to insult him by demeaning the gift, but weren't they just..."Magnets?"_

_ He frowned, and she was sure he was about to draw into himself as he so often did, but the creases in his cheeks remained only for a moment. His dark eyes instead gained a certain spark, a strange confidence that she had yet to see occupy them in their short friendship._

_ "Well, when you asked about being Muggle-born the other day..." He hesitated._

_ "Yes?" She was not making the connection and it seemed to perturb him._

_ "I thought that this might help. Proof, you might say. That it doesn't make a difference."_

_ He placed the chain in her palm, his eyes darting up to her forehead before they shifted back down to her gaze. His confidence was shedding off in layers, peeling away more and more every moment that she remained unfazed._

_ She noticed. "They're lovely! Very...er...shiny. I just still don't—."_

_ "Even in this world...in the Muggle world, I mean...there is magic. I didn't used to think so, but then I met—." He paused, his eyes shifting once more to her forehead. He changed course. "The magnets. I saw them on a shelf at the corner store the other day. They made me think about how there are forces in this world, too. Unexplainable ones. Like the way magnets are...drawn together."_

_ Her eyes were bright now. "Oh, I see! You'll have to forgive me. Tuney threw a hairbrush at my head earlier and I think it must have knocked a few brain cells around, y'know?"_

_ His face darkened. "I don't know why you bother with her."_

_ She sighed, clenching the chain in her palm. She then looked up again, mouth set in an oddly serious line. It would not have been so peculiar had her eyes not been sparkling._

_ "There are forces in this world, too, Sev. Unexplainable ones." Her lips remained closed for barely a second longer before she bent over and let out a hoot of laughter, clutching conspiratorially at his arm. And he laughed, too, watching her carefully and thinking of magnets._

Clink. Together. Silence. Apart.

"What's that you're playing with, girl? Marbles?" Vernon Dursley's large face was even pinker than usual, a testament to the glass of wine he held in his gargantuan hand. His fifth in the last half hour.

And, Merlin, did she hate it when he called her _girl_.

She shoved the chain into a pocket and opened her mouth to retort, but was quickly interrupted by the tall, ridiculously thin woman who had just entered the room. With another bottle of wine, it must be noted.

"Oh, darling, don't you know? Lily lost her marbles _years_ ago." Her sister's smile was sweet enough that it may fool the average passerby, but it didn't reach her eyes. It never did anymore when Lily was around.

"Ha bloody ha, Tuney."

Petunia's countenance darkened.

"What did she call you, Pet?" Vernon had spotted the fresh bottle of wine and quickly threw back what was left in his glass, proffering it expectantly to his fiancée.

She eagerly re-filled it, leaning forward to rub his red cheeks and sufficiently distracting him with the bit of cleavage that was produced in her hunch. "Nothing, dearest. I believe she coughed."

He grunted his approval.

Lily quirked an eyebrow. "Indeed, sick. Feeling rather nauseous, actually."

Her sister's eyes narrowed as she squeezed onto the love seat with Vernon. There was barely room, even for her absurdly thin frame.

"Mum," she called, her voice overly loud, "tell me again why Lily is visiting."

Mrs. Evans was not the one to answer, though. Vidahlia Snell, clad in a purple velvet tunic and sporting dangly peacock earrings, sashayed out of the kitchen. Her laughter arrived in the living room before she did.

"Oh, Petty, love. Now, now. You know that your Mum and I need to live vicariously through you darlings these days. You keep us spinsters young."

Lily welcomed the ease of a real smile. "Dahlia, you're hardly _spinsters_. You both reached your silver anniversary!"

The older woman joined Lily on the longer couch. "A widow is a spinster with benefits, my love."

Petunia sipped her wine. "Benefits, Mrs. Snell?"

She grinned, squeezing Lily's shoulder. "Yes, many benefits. Not the least of which is that of not being a lifelong virgin!"

Lily smirked as her sister spit a burst of wine onto Vernon's white trousers. In his drunken state, he didn't seem to mind much—in fact, he barely seemed to register anything as Petunia's chest came into view again while she leaned in to dab at the stain.

"Not to worry, Vernon. Crimson is your—" Dahlia evaluated the wide man in front of her, her eyes lingering on his rosy, swollen cheeks, and amended. "...well, it's certainly _a_ color. Petty, sweets, that's quite enough rubbing, this isn't the red-light district."

Lily bit down hard on her lip to suppress her own amusement, watching carefully as Petunia quickly retracted her hand. When her sister turned her face toward them, her cheeks were colored furiously.

But then again, self-control could be overrated.

She held up her own glass of wine, admiring it. "Ah, my favorite. _Blush_."

Vernon scowled, inspecting his own drink. "Pet, I told you to buy Merlot, not—."

Her sister flew to her feet, swiftly cutting him off. "As you wished, Vernon! Just drink it."

Lily turned to her godmother, not trusting herself to look at Petunia. "You were saying?"

Dahlia simpered, squeezing Lily's knee. "I was _saying_ that us old birds need to live vicariously through our daughters, and seeing as I _only have a son, _and seeing as _he _has a boyfriend named Demetri_, _I find it quite necessary to live through you and Petty_. _Now, Lily, tell me about this boy_—."_

_ "_I heard there was a spill!" Mrs. Evans hurried into the room, shooting a furtive glance toward Lily, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod in thanks.

Lily glanced sideways at her godmother, hardly realizing that her hands were clenching fistfuls of her long skirt. The turn in conversation had made her insides clench and the wine was suddenly dizzying her, reddening her own cheeks. Yes, of course, _the wine_.

Luckily, Dahlia was easily curbed. "Oh, Cathy, the carpets are fine, don't get yourself into a twist. I was merely being a bit cheeky."

Mrs. Evans informed her friend that she was never just _a bit_ cheeky, to which Dahlia began to lift up her dress so that everyone could really _see some cheek_, and much more cheekiness, in fact, ensued, as the two women chattered away.

The conversation in the small room continued quite easily for some time, actually, until Vernon insisted on pulling out the Sunday paper to show the women a write-up that had been done about the company who'd just hired him. As he opened the paper wide in front of his face, Dahlia sighed.

Lily and her mum both turned inward out of curiosity.

"Oh, it's nothing. I just—Cathy, do you remember any of the men that Cecil used to work with?"

Mrs. Evans shook her head.

Dahlia shrugged, but her face had clouded over. "It's really of no matter. It's just...I always find these situations to be so tragic. Especially during the holidays. Reminds me of last Christmas when Cece passed and—."

When she broke off, trembling slightly, Lily reached over and placed a warm hand on her shoulder.

Dahlia looked up, giving Lily a brief smile. "I'm being overly emotional. I barely knew the man. He just used to work with Cece over at the mill...came to a birthday of his once. Nasty, awful man. Not a gentleman, by any means, but still. I hate to hear of such things."

Mrs. Evans seemed to grasp the situation, asking softly, "He died?"

Lily stiffened. Death was never a particularly cheery topic for anyone, but nevertheless not something that she usually strayed from. She wasn't one of those weepy birds that could barely speak of it, and when her father had died five years earlier, she had handled it quite healthily. She hadn't bottled up emotions or become rebellious, but simply cried, and mourned and healed. Death had never been something she'd been particularly afraid of, but everything had changed recently. Death, among other things, was not a welcome topic tonight, and she hoped her mother would step in once more.

"Yes, but—" Dahlia's voice broke again. "Well, it was a suicide."

Lily got up, not too quickly, but as if she were going to put her glass in the sink, and began to walk towards the kitchen. Even if the subject wouldn't change, her location could.

Mrs. Evans, unfortunately, was caught off guard by this twist in the story, and though she knew exactly why Lily had stood up, found herself inexplicably curious. "I hadn't heard of anything of the sort...and all of the mill workers live so close by! Dahlia, how had I not heard of this? Someone in my own neighborhood _does this_ and I wasn't even aware? What was his name?"

Lily was a step away from entering the kitchen.

"Tobias Snape."

She froze.

"Oh, I-I didn't know him." As her mother faltered, Lily turned around, the beat of her pulse thumping in her neck.

She'd thought that her mum's eyes would be the source of comfort seeking hers out, but as she turned, it was the intense gaze of her sister that locked with her own. Petunia held this eye contact for nearly a full minute before turning back towards Dahlia.

"Mrs. Snell, would you like more wine?"

Dahlia, who had been wringing her hands anxiously in her lap as Mrs. Evans patted her leg, let out a resigned sigh and held out her glass. "Certainly, dear."

"You know, Vernon and I are thinking of having a bottle of this at every table at the wedding." Petunia's voice had turned chipper and louder. "Oh, and speaking of the wedding, you wouldn't by any chance have time to stop round the caterers with Mum and I tomorrow?"

Dahlia, infamous for buying only pink baby clothes while carrying her son, was instantly absorbed by the bride-to-be's details. As she focused in on Petunia and Vernon went back to his paper, Mrs. Evans turned a watchful eye on Lily. Her daughter, it seemed, had quietly left for the kitchen. She excused herself from present company and trailed after her.

Lily was to be found at the sink, washing the evening's dinner dishes. A soft frown pulled at Mrs. Evan's features as she realized that her child was not so much actively cleaning anything as she was draping her arms into the basin. She approached carefully and made to turn the faucet off, smarting when the water gushed over her own hand. It was scorching hot.

She evaluated her daughter, who was yet to speak up—simply staring out the window that framed the wall over their sink. Her expression was closed; her eyes withdrawn. Her small hands appeared raw from the scouring.

"Mum, I don't want to talk about it." She stated simply.

Mrs. Evans sighed. "About...Dahlia's story? Or about Jam—."

"Mum!" Lily snapped.

She stepped back. "You don't have to clean up, Lily. Go home."

Mrs. Evan's voice had been gentle, but Lily whipped around fiercely, pieces of her red hair flinging across her face. "But it's a mess and you can't do all of this by yourself! Look, the dishes are everywhere and n-nothing's clean and it's j-just you! You shouldn't be burdened. No one should be _burdened_ like this. We shouldn't be left to clean up these messes _alone_."

When she finished, it was as if all the air had been sucked out of her. Her body slumped against the sink, both arms coming forward to encircle her waist.

Mrs. Evans surveyed her daughter once again, looking as if she wanted very badly to say something, but wasn't at all sure that it was right in that moment. She hesitated. "I know that you were hoping tonight would be a _distraction_, but—."

"_Mum_. I _don't _want to talk about it."

She plowed on anyway. "Honey, go home. Being back here isn't helping and if I had known that...that _that_ had happened, I would've never suggested you come tonight in the first place."

Lily looked very, very tired. Her mother's resolve must have wavered, for she stepped forward again, embracing her child.

"You aren't alone. These things happen, darling. They happen to everyone...and we just take it one day at a time. He'll come around."

Lily's eyes were shining. She sniffed softly. "He's not even _himself_, Mum. Of all people, I thought I could help, but he doesn't _want _me."

Mrs. Evans wiped her thumb along Lily's eyes. "He may not _want_ you, but he needs you. Trust me on this, Lily."

Lily nodded, but it was noncommittal.

"And this thing about Mr. Snape..."

Lily stiffened.

"Leave it be. You have too much on your plate already, you hardly need this weighing on your mind. I'm sure it was—."

"It wasn't, Mum." The expression in her eyes had hardened.

"O-okay. But, you don't know that for sure, so please just leave it be for now. Go home and talk to him."

"He's probably not even _there, _probably_ drinking—."_

"And that isn't your place to judge."

This seemed to shut Lily up. She pursed her lips, gathering herself, then placed her palm behind her mother's head and brushed a kiss on her cheek. Without another word, she crossed to the kitchen table, where an ordinary Muggle coat was hanging from one of the chairs. She slipped it on and walked straight back to the living room. When she reached her destination, she stopped in the middle of the room and waited for her presence to be acknowledged.

"Sorry to be cutting the evening short, but I'm a bit knackered and it's...it's a long trip, y'know?" She bit her lip at the last bit, the lie.

Dahlia got up to kiss her goodbye and Vernon held up one hand and slurred something at her. Petunia, however, stood last and took hold of her arm.

Her eyes were narrowed. "I'll walk you out."

Lily shrugged, part not quite sure of what was going on, mostly not even caring much.

Petunia's eyes immediately wandered off when they stepped outside, Lily's soon following suit in curiosity. Barely in sight down at the far end of their street, the playground was unoccupied and still, save the set of swings that were guided to and fro by the wind.

"Go home, Lily."

She did not want to start an unnecessary row with her sister, not now that she was leaving. She did not much appreciate being told what to do for the second time in barely ten minutes, though, especially when she was already obeying the exact orders.

"Where else _would_ I be going, Tuney?" The exasperated sigh had barely passed her lips when the alternate itinerary dawned on her.

Petunia's large eyes flickered away again, as they had on that day Lily had accused her of hiding a hairbrush.

Lily's gaze traveled over to the playground once more, then back toward her sister.

"Petunia," her voice had deepened, grown quite serious, "is he here?"

The older girl pressed her lips together, defiant.

"Tell me."

Petunia drew in a shaky breath and pointed a finger toward the playground. "Lily, that _boy_...don't you realize...h-he very well could have—." She couldn't say it, but her voice was rising. "...and _you_ come back here to see him...and have the nerve to act like you're visiting us, have the nerve to make Mum believe you're so _distraught, _have the nerve to try and upstage me when you're not even wearing—._"_

"A ring?" Lily let out a bitter chuckle, then pulled her wand from the pocket of her coat.

Petunia flinched and immediately withdrew, but while the object was pointed out, it was not pointed at _her_. Lily had instead tapped her own hand and murmured something that she couldn't quite catch. She was unable to suppress her gasp as her eyes were drawn downward, for the ring that sparkled on her sister's fourth finger seemed to literally be emanating light.

It was Lily's turn to guffaw when Petunia took hold of that hand, not a grab, not forcefully, but with...tenderness?

Petunia held it up close for inspection. She had been to several jewelry shoppes with Vernon in the past six years, having dragged him in nearly every time they'd been out, desperately hoping he'd catch on. He had, in his own time, which in Vernon's case meant _painfully_ slow, but Petunia was sure she'd seen hundreds—maybe thousands—of rings, before she had finally laid eyes on her own. She was certain, though, that she had never seen a ring quite like the one that adorned her sister's finger. The band was a gleaming white gold with a solitaire flocking either side of the octagonal face. Surrounding the center diamond were delicate, intricately crafted flowers, each with a tiny gem of its own inside the petals.

"It's..." _Positively stunning._

"Goblin made." Lily supplied, a weariness now weighing down on the lilt of her voice.

Petunia dropped her hand abruptly and when the sisters' eyes met Lily understood that her mention of the foreign word had allowed her sister to regain composure.

"Well, it must have cost a fortune," Petunia's voice had acquired its usual condescension. "Why in blazes would you hide it?"

"A fortune?" The bitter mirth came rolling off Lily's tongue again. "It cost a lot more than that."

Petunia wanted very badly to know more. She wanted to hear her sister's version of the story her mother had hurriedly recounted earlier. She wanted to look straight into those bright green eyes that were ablaze with a mix of fury and tears and tell her sister that everything would work out because she was Lily, and everything _always worked out for Lily_. She wanted to hug her. Most of all, though, she wanted _that boy_ to stay far away from her sister. And, she supposed, knowing that she may have secured at least that for tonight was enough.

Unsure of what else to say and quite overwhelmed in that moment by her own emotions, Petunia faltered, then asked, "Are you off, then?"

Misunderstanding, Lily scoffed, and when her head shook, Petunia swore she saw a tear leak out of her eyes. She swiped quickly at her face, pivoting, and as she turned muttered, "Yes. I'm off."

Petunia meant to call out to her, she honestly did. But, before the words could even formulate in her mind, let alone on her lips, she was staring merely at the mailbox rather than her sister's retreating back.

—

Lily squeezed her eyes shut for a full minute after she felt her feet hit the ground of her flat. She was ridding herself of the tears, surely, but also...bugger.

_Please be here_.

She repeated the mantra several times in her head, willing it to be true, before blinking her eyes open.

The entire place was dark and Lily begged her mind to be convinced that disorientation was the reason for the way her stomach seemed to plummet, and the dizzy ache in her temples, and the overcoming urge to sit down.

She groped at the smooth oak she knew to be the kitchen table and eased herself into the nearest chair.

Pointing her wand into the darkness, she whispered, "Lumos."

The beacon at the tip of her wand wasn't nearly as bright as the bulbs she could've summoned to light up, but it was enough to fill the kitchen with a soft glow that allowed her to look around.

Everything was just so. The china gleamed beautifully behind the shining glass doors of perfectly polished cabinets. The marble counters were resplendent; not a single smudge to be seen, every fancy appliance that Lily still hadn't learned the spells to control pushed back into its rightful spot. The size of the kitchen itself was even cause for amazement-it was nearly as large as most flats were in their entirety.

"Oh, Lily, it's perfect," Mary had remarked, awe-struck.

As she looked at all the beautiful accents of her kitchen, everything she laid her eyes on appearing to be untouched, she couldn't help but marvel herself.

How little _life_ there was these days in this perfect life of hers.

Her eyes fell upon the Nimbus 1000 propped up in the corner nearest the door. Her mind was flooded with memories. Visions of his hands, or hers maybe, tousling a head of messy black hair. Another hand, definitely hers, smacking hard against his cheek; her body pulling away embarrassed by this flare of temper, only to find those infuriating hazel eyes dancing as they always were. Feeling her back against the freezing stone of Hogwarts' walls at night, his torso pressing against her, lips grazing her ear, the whisper of "All right, Evans?" and knowing, just _knowing_ that if she were to pull back even an inch she'd be sure to see that crooked smirk.

Tap. T-t-t-t. Tap.

She shook her head, shaking away the memories, too. Realizing the slight smile that had graced her face only allowed a sudden rush of—worry, impatience, anger—to bubble up inside of her. Regaining hold of her senses, she allowed her ears to suss out the source of the disruptive noise. A rather enormous owl, so dark in color that the night was perfect camouflage, was requesting entry through the window above the sink.

With a sigh, she aimed her wand at the window. The owl screeched, barely waiting for the barrier to pop open before it squeezed its body through. It dropped a tied cylinder of parchment on the table and dug its talons into Lily's right shoulder as it landed.

She sighed again, this time more annoyed, allowing the exhalation of breath to shoot through her nostrils. The owl nipped at her face.

"Ow...eurgh! Hullo, Voltaire." She reached up to caress its back and this display of attention seemed to please it enough that it loosened its grip. Not wanting to give the owl any further reason for agitation, she picked up the parchment and unrolled it, her eyes quickly scanning its contents.

_**Evans,**_

_**Tame your rages. He's with me. Shall I tell him you're brassed off, as I'm certain you are, or are the pair of you continuing this ever-productive display of passive aggression? Ah, yes, the latter. **_

_**Cheers,**_

_**Padfoot**_

Upon finishing, Lily instantly crumbled up the letter, smashing it between her fingers and growling as she did so.

She thought of the magnetic chain in her pocket, of her lifeless kitchen, of hazel eyes dancing at her from what seemed like _ages ago_, and of Petunia's eyes averting their gaze tonight in a clear display that she had something to hide.

It was one of those decisions that is made before one realizes they've even been considering it.

Pointing her wand at her left hand, Lily repeated the spell she had performed earlier before entering her mother's house.

Hands now bare, she pictured Spinner's End in her head and thought again of magnets. A moment later, she apparated.

Clink. Together. Silence. Apart.

Author's Note: This is my first foray back into the HP universe in a while, so please be kind :) & I am a big L/J fan, though this first chapter may lead you to believe otherwise. Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave comments/constructive criticism-both are welcome!


	2. Secrets and Fools

_Humming softly to herself, she bent down to retrieve the final object inside of the box at her feet._

_It was a simple silver frame whose former residence had been her bedside table in the 7__th__ year girls' dormitory. She placed it beside the others on the shelf, smiling to herself as she stepped back to observe her display. Her grandmother, the sole occupant of that particular frame, was frozen in a moment of distinct sternness—the picture in question having been snapped at Lily's baptism, an event the elderly woman had taken quite seriously. It was amusing and quite fitting that her grandmother's picture was the only one on the shelf that wasn't moving. Stuck in her ways, indeed._

"_I reckon," Lily mused, tilting her head so that her voice would carry over her shoulder, "that my Gran would consider this 'living in sin'."_

_She didn't bother to turn around; instead, went about adjusting each frame to a more fitting angle as she awaited a response. When several moments had passed, though, and continued work on her shelf display might have entered a territory regarded as anal, she stepped back to seek out an answer._

_She needn't have, for this step led her directly into another solid body, her back coming up against a lean torso. Before she could react, a chin nestled into her hair as a pair of arms wound firmly around her waist. Instinctively, she leaned back, just as the pressure on top of her head ceased and lips grazed her earlobe. _

"_I'm not much for cults, so correct me if I'm wrong," he drawled. "I can't seem to recall participating in any particularly sinful activities just yet." A brush of lips against her collarbone. "But, I'd hate to prove you false, love."_

_Smirking in spite of herself, she turned in his arms._

"_Really, James—in front of my grandmother?"_

_He nudged his nose gently against hers. "Just acquainting myself with my new flatmate. Did the same thing with the lads first year. Must say, different results."_

"_Sirius is rather opposed to Eskimo kisses."_

_He cocked an eyebrow. "Heximo? Sounds dirty."_

_She laughed softly and stood on her tiptoes to rub their noses once more. "Trust me, it's not."_

_He growled. "Stop deviating, Evans. You haven't answered my question." _

_Shooting him a coy grin, she pulled away and curled her finger inward, trying her best to appear casual as she sauntered into the kitchen. When she reached her destination, she spun around and noted in satisfaction that he had dutifully trailed her. Placing both hands against the dining table, she hoisted herself into a sitting position on top of it. _

_He regarded her, his lips quirking upward for just a moment before they pulled down again into a carefully composed line._

"_What exactly would _dear Gran_ have to say about this?"_

_Lily flicked her eyes away from his gaze, which was growing to be quite smoldering. "She'd think it very much a scandal to be living with a boyfriend. Especially one I've been seeing for scarcely a year. She'd say I'm naïve; that I don't know what I'm getting myself into."_

_He stepped forward to stand between her legs and slid his arms down so that they came to rest on her hips. He rested his forehead against her own._

"_But you know _everything_ about me." His voice was soft; the gold in his eyes over-bright._

_She cast her eyes downward, placing her palms on the front of his shirt. She had undid nearly all the buttons before she looked up again._

"_Do I?"_

_He nodded and pressed a chaste kiss on her mouth. Feeling her frown, he grinned again and bent his head to nip at her neck, one hand sliding halfway up her shirt and caressing her ribs. _

"_And you, thief of my innocence? Any deep, dark secrets that naïve blokes like myself should know about?"_

_If Lily were to really think about the query, she may have answered differently. But in that moment, with James's hand moving to trail down her stomach and her heart feeling too large for her chest and those damn gold flecks in his eyes positively blinding, she really wasn't thinking at all. _

_Wrapping her legs around his middle, she tugged him forward by the waist of his trousers and undid the buttons there as well._

_Chuckling, he leaned her down so that her back hit the table and then placed a palm on her cheek, gently inclining her head so that her eyes locked on a broomstick that had been placed rather auspiciously on a prominent shelf on the far wall. _

_He stood again, his smirk overtaking every inch of his face._

"_Really, Lily—in front of the Nimbus?"_

—

As this memory drifted away, Lily felt her cheeks flush. She wasn't entirely sure why, upon her arrival at Spinner's End, her mind would drift to such a…erm…heated moment.

_Guilty?_

She quickened her footsteps in response to her traitorous mind. She refused to acquiesce to guilt. She wouldn't have to keep secrets from him—wouldn't flush so powerfully at a mere memory—if it weren't for the fact that her fiancé had barely even _spoken to her_ in weeks.

_ James…_

What she did know was that she was exhausted from carrying the constant weight of him on her mind. What she was exceedingly positive of was that the ache summoned by the mere thought of him was draining nearly all of her energy.

This resolve carried her all the way to the uneven sidewalk that lined the street opposite the Snape home. Sighing, she steeled herself against the realization of what she was about to do.

She was prepared for the idea of seeing Severus, of looking into those dark eyes that she had carefully avoided at graduation and finally _saying something_. Telling him how very badly he had hurt her, but that it wasn't too late. She had told him once that they had already chosen their paths, but she had truly only meant that for herself. She _had_ chosen her path, but that didn't mean he couldn't change his. Because these things that others said about him—the whispers that seemed to follow her around—they just _couldn't_ be true.

She was unprepared for the reality of actually being there. Tobias Snape haunted his household even in death, it seemed. The grass was still lifeless and spurting up in patches at best. Several tiles were missing off the roof. The bushes were wildly overgrown, overtaking the windows and making the first story appear sunken. The brass knocker on the front door was hanging askew, swaying in the wind.

A part of her wanted to believe that Tobias Snape really had committed suicide, having realized the tremendous grievances he had caused his family in life. Lily had encountered the man numerous times, though, and he had never struck her as the remorseful type.

_Yes_, she decided, she was most certainly of the mind that Severus himself had had a hand in this. But did she fault him?

Vengeance was becoming more and more tolerable in their world as of late, but Lily, for one, did not yet feel she had the right to an opinion on it.

A concealment charm would not do—she did not think it would benefit either of them to take him off guard. She would have to remain visible. Taking a deep breath to steady her mind and frantic pulse, she pulled her wand out from beneath her robes and approached the house slowly. Relative darkness would have to be her ally.

As she crept closer, her eyes darted from one window to the next, taking a swift mental inventory of every detail she observed. It had occurred to her many times in the past several minutes that there was a chance Severus had not come back alone. She had decided firmly every time that if she had ever really known him at all, she was safe in the knowledge that he would never choose to bring _anyone_ to this place. She also recognized that the fact that she even considered such an option meant that she had _also_ considered the whispers more than she was willing to admit. This, however, she refused to dwell on.

It was the very moment that she stepped foot on his property, though, that a sudden chill leaked through her clothes, creeping up her arms and back. Some witches and wizards never grew familiar with the feeling of being tracked by an invisible presence, but she was well versed in the sensation. She was _not alone._

Another steadying breath gave her courage. She turned back toward the street.

"I know you're there and I just want to talk." She hoped she'd kept her voice even.

"Expelliarmus!" The deep voice caught her off guard and she just barely managed to spit out the countercurse. Her wand remained protected, but her lack of focus had only halfway blocked the spell; the force of it catapulted her backward several feet. She landed with a clatter on the front stoop of the Snape house.

Massaging her head, she raised her eyes toward her attacker and groaned. "What the bloody _fuck_ was that about?"

"Constant vigilance, Evans." Alastor Moody, clad in a mismatched Muggle jumper and trousers, mumbled several charms under his breath as he pointed to various points in their perimeter.

Moody frightfully intimidated many of her peers and elders alike, but even as the wizard's magical eye spun in circles while the good one honed in on her, Lily found herself mostly relaxed, albeit a little annoyed.

Brushing off her coat, she stood up, wobbling slightly and massaging her temples.

"Constant _headache_ is more like." She grumbled. "Mind explaining what you're doing here, Alastor? Save for attacking me, that is."

"Mind explaining what in blazes Potter think he's doing, quitting my program?" The magical eye stopped spinning for a moment and both focused intently on Lily.

She bit her lip, incensed. "I'm not his _keeper_."

"So be it. Off with you then, girl."

Merlin. Again, that _word_.

Lily strode forward, hands on hips. "I happen to live here."

"Evans, you happen to live approximately 700 meters from here. If you would like to be listed In my report as hanging about at the scene of a murder, then by all means continue to waste both our time. Otherwise, you are best suited hanging off the arm of the Minister, as per usual."

She considered him for a moment, then sighed. "Alastor, the Junior Undersecretary position straight out of Hogwarts was a privilege not many would turn down. Minister Sloper has spoken more on behalf of Muggleborn rights than any who had ever held the position before, so forgive me if I—."

"Spoken." Moody's scarred face looked skeptical. "Anyone can speak up, Evans. Taking action is for a braver sort."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me a coward?"

He strode past her, making his way up the steps of the house. "I'm calling you a nuisance, possibly even an impediment to a sanctioned investigation."

_Murder. How had she let that slip by?_

She cleared her throat. "So, it was a murder then?"

He'd begun to test out several jinxes on the home to ensure a lack of protective spells, but he paused in his work. He grunted and turned around. "Evans, I don't wish to relay your presence here to my superiors, but if you keep questioning my presence I'm going to have to start questioning _yours. _"

"I told you, I live—."

"Spare me the shite, Evans. Sloper be damned, your presence is required at the Ministry." He hesitated. "Lupin got cut today."

Her mouth went agape, but she only allowed her surprise to reign for a moment before letting the anger wash over her. "Why would you—how…_how could you? _You _knew_ how much he wanted this! He's more than capable a-and he…he was so bloody nervous about this! How COULD you?"

Moody drew himself up and blew a stream of air out his nostrils. "Not my call, Evans. Final cuts are run by Law Enforcement and Crouch overruled."

Lily faltered. "B-but you told him he'd be fine. He was so sure that he wouldn't be and you told him he could trust this! He doesn't have an easy time—."

"Merlin knows I'm aware of that, Evans!" His tone had a note of finality. "Like I said, it-was-not-my-call. Might want to ask Sloper about his grand plans for civil rights, huh? I'm sure he'd love to _talk it out_."

This silenced her. Annoyed, partly by that awful inclination that he may have a point, Lily allowed a sound of disgust to leave her lips before turning around and storming away from the house. She didn't trust herself to apparate just yet.

Before she could even reach the other side of the street, however, an idea occurred to her. She whipped around.

"Moody!"

Now crouched down in front of the door, Moody spun his head around.

"Do you believe in self defense?"

Even from this far away, she could see his shoulders tense in frustration.

"Get on with, Evans!"

She hesitated, but plowed on. "The man who lived here…he used to beat his son to a pulp. Would you call that self-defense?"

He paused as well. "Empathy is out of my jurisdiction."

She sighed, her anger seeping out of her along with that faint glimmer of hope. Ready to apparate, she pulled out her wand.

"Evans, tell Potter he's no good to me chasing a ball around for a living."

Despite knowing this assumption to be false, she shrugged, then mumbled. "He's out of my jurisdiction."

She lent a reluctant thought to going into work on her day off, but almost automatically pictured Remus. Without another word, she was gone.

—

He was sitting near the grand statue depicting magical cooperation and tolerance. The irony was not lost on Lily.

When she sat down beside him, she placed her hand softly on his knee. "This is utter shite, Remus."

He looked up, hardly registering any surprise that she was there. His lips quirked into a sardonic smile. "More like business as _usual_, I reckon."

She squeezed his leg. "These people…they aren't _half _the human being you are."

He looked at the floor. "Nah, Lily. They-they're right. A werewolf as an auror? It's ludicrous. It's my fault that I keep fooling myself into these childish fancies."

She frowned, her eyebrows drawing together. "Risking your life for others—a childish fancy? Don't be a git, Lupin."

He smiled again, but this time it transferred to the rest of his face. "Don't be an idealist, Evans."

"I wish there was something I could do."

"You're here, aren't you?" He answered mildly.

She studied him for a long moment. "And they aren't."

Remus seemed to have noticed the sudden shift in her voice and quickly hurried to amend. "I haven't told them, Lily. It—quite literally—just happened. Barely a quarter of an hour."

Lily, agitated, raised her left hand to run it through her hair. It was a miserable habit she'd picked up.

Remus's brow furrowed and he reached to grab the hand in question, catching her unaware.

She noticed he was frowning at her, an odd crease forming around his eyes. "What are you—?"

He lifted up her hand and Petunia's wide eyes flashed in her mind. She flushed, quickly tugging her arm away.

They sat in silence for several long moments.

"We haven't quite gotten around to telling everyone and I didn't want to be…" She trailed off., then decided, "Ostentatious."

"Lily, he—."

"Probably wouldn't even notice." She cut in, averting her eyes. That all-too familiar pressure was clogging her chest, the ache swelling and filling her up.

Remus sighed. "He _would_."

She chuckled lightly, her heart hardly in it. "Now, look who's the idealist."

Remus smiled very slightly and pulled out his wand. He tapped Lily's finger and murmured quietly. The ring shone brilliantly against her pale skin.

He looked her straight in the eyes. "Still you."

She shifted uncomfortably on the bench, swiftly changing the subject. "What do you say we go get pissed, yeah? Woe is us and all that?"

The strange look returned to Remus's eyes. He considered her very carefully. "Lily, where have you been today?"

Feeling her skin heat up once more, she fought the urge to turn away. How could Remus possibly know about Severus? Was it written so plainly across her face?

"Listen, Remus, it's not what you think…" She began.

He cut in. "I know that the two of you are…well, it's not my place to get into it—."

It was her turn to break in, slicing fiercely through his words. "The two of us aren't _anything_, Remus. I was at my Mum's and I heard that his father committed suicide, so naturally—."

"Wait, _what_?"

Lily paused in her raging, taking a deep breath. "What?"

"Graham didn't—he would _never_ have done something like that. Why would you think of that…It was back in sixth year and…entirely natural causes."

"Graham?" Lily thought for a moment. "Graham _Potter_?"

Remus seemed to be catching up. "We aren't talking about James's dad, then?" He hesitated. "And we aren't talking about James?"

Lily bit her lip, debating her options. She didn't want to keep secrets from Remus, but she had the distinct feeling that this was not the time to share.

"Sorry, I…it's been a long day. Just got some bad news about a…childhood neighbor earlier." She paused, then added awkwardly, "Been at Mum's."

Remus was studying her again and for a moment she was positive he was going to press for more information.

"Lily." He looked her squarely in the eyes, his voice gone soft.

Something about his tone turned a light on in her brain. Remus was not the one who was missing the point—she was.

Suddenly anxious, she squeezed his knee again; this time was less of sympathy and more so unbridled impatience. "What is it?"

"Jane…James's mum," Lily glared as he paused here—for Merlin's sake, she was up to speed now! "She met with the healers today."

She heard a sharp intake of breath. It took quite a few moments before she realized it was her own.

Remus looked pained. "Lily, it's not as long as they thought. Months was…a _presumptuous _guess."

If the ache grew stronger, she was sure she might break.

Silence, and then, "Days."

Remus was suddenly fuzzy, but it didn't immediately register that it was the moisture in her eyes that was to blame. All that occurred to her was how in a matter of days, the aching might overtake her altogether. In a matter of days, he would certainly break—and how could she not, as well? In a matter of days, the charade of perfection would be over, but what would it be replaced with?

In a matter of days, privileged James Potter, treasured only child of Graham and Jane, would be an orphan.

A/N: Feedback greatly appreciated :) Thanks for reading!


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